Page 33 of Grumpy Bear

Even though there was a good four inches between his ass and the zipper of my fly, a faint forcefield of electricity buzzed against my crotch.

If there were any guests watching out the windows of their RVs right now, they were loving this little show. It had to look like the start of any number of vintage porn flicks…

I gave the sides of Luke’s shoulders a light friendly slap. “I think you’re good.”

“Thanks.” Luke quickly stepped out of my reach and turned.

For a few more seconds, we stood there staring mutely at each other, sweat trickling down our faces.

His eyes were the most impossible gold-green color, and I had to bite my tongue to keep from commenting out loud about how pretty they fucking were.

I swallowed hard and shoved my sunglasses back on. “Can’t have you getting burned on the first day. You’d be miserable the rest of the weekend.”

When he smiled, his eyes softened like I’d just said the sweetest thing in the world.

15

Luke

After we mowed the field—and Coleman had almost made me come in my shorts like a teenager while slathering sunblock all over me—we jumped back in the UTV.

Below the pool complex, he took a sharp right across the largest of the bridges over the creek. There was another landscaped area with a cluster of buildings and rows of cabins nestled in the steep wooded hill to the east.

“When I saw this yesterday, I thought it looked like Hobbiton.”

Coleman grunted and smirked. “We call it The Village.” He pointed at the main building, a round wooden structure on stilts with a deck wrapping all the way around it. “That’s The Cubby Hole.”

“You guys have your own gay bar?”

“If we didn’t have one, who would?” He shrugged. “We open it most nights. Since it’s an event weekend, we’ll have a welcome party with a DJ tonight.”

He parked and walked me around the small intricate green spaces—planters, hedges, flowerbeds, fountains, and a yard set up for bocce, corn hole, and what looked like…

“Is that croquet?”

Coleman shot me a look. “These guys live for some naked croquet.”

“Oh. Well, I guess it has its appeal.”

A pergola with picnic tables and a fire pit separated The Cubby Hole from a third bathhouse with a gym and a tiny house with a barber pole above the door. Beyond that was a stone chapel like a miniature country church in some British period drama.

“We do a shit ton of weddings these days. Jim got ordained online, and he loves to officiate.” He drew the word out and rolled his eyes, but it didn’t hide genuine affection and amusement. It was the way you’d talk about a beloved family member.

I smiled, imagining the scene. “I can totally see it.”

Behind the barber shop, Coleman opened a storage locker stocked with weed eaters, leaf blowers, gardening tools, and supplies. “It’s a little too tight up here for the mowers.” He showed me what he wanted cleaned up. A lot of the work was clearing limbs and twigs downed by the storm last night. “Top off the mulch wherever you think it needs it. Make it all look fresh. I have some flats of impatiens for a few spots of color.”

“How do you want the flowers, like, arranged?”

“Here’s what I do. Cluster odd numbers together. Nothing symmetrical. Don’t be too uniform or strict with straight lines. It doesn’t have to be perfect. A little bit messy and it looks more natural, you know?”

“Yeah. Like it’s part of the mountain, like the woods have flowed down and reached in between everything. It’s really beautifully done. Did you design all this?”

Coleman rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t know if I’d call it design, but… yeah.”

“It’s impressive. It must have taken years.”

“It did. And it’s not like it’s ever really finished. It never will be. It’ll always be here.” He sighed. I detected a weariness in his voice.